


And Break All Their Hearts

by rosemary_bread



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: I haven't written anything in awhile so bare with me, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Simon dies, Spoiler Alert - Freeform, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Bad at Feelings, basically pretend the thing with the veil didnt happen so simon and baz never got together yea, baz doesnt know how to deal with emotions, baz pitch is a petty bitch, fuck the mage, no beta we die like men, takes place after eighth year, this is supposed to be angsty but im bad at that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 03:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20885120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosemary_bread/pseuds/rosemary_bread
Summary: Baz Pitch holds true to his promise. Simon has died in the war against the old families, and Baz doesn't know what to do with himself. Naturally, he looks back on his fifth year fantasies, and decides the obvious best course of action. To find one hundred men, all identical to Simon Snow, and break all of their hearts. So that's what he does, at least to the seven he can find.





	And Break All Their Hearts

BAZ

Things have gone precisely as I said they would. No surprise, of course. We all knew it would come down to something of this sort, and while I’ve been bracing myself for years, it is a difficult task, to wrap my head around the fact that Simon Snow, brimming with smoke and magick and life, Simon Snow, the only hope, Simon Snow, who I’ve been in love with for years, is dead, and I wasn’t even the one who got to kill him.

It was the Mage, too. Not even someone from our side. The closest thing he had to a father figure. Fiona saw it, she was there. The best word to describe it, she said, was “wicked”. I think I have to agree with her. She was with him, Snow, they had only been talking. Not that it would have stayed that way for long. Fiona never has been known for her words. She had been trying to take him from the Mage’s side. The Mage, that is, who immediately showed up and assumed Snow was being kidnapped, about to be tortured for information.   
Pitches are intense. Grimms are harsh. But we are not torturers. Besides, I lived with Snow long enough to know that he can’t keep a secret, and from that that the Mage never gave him any information to start with. Nonetheless, at that point the ground swallowed Snow, suffocated him. Fiona stood her ground, barely.   
I’m not yet sure if I’m glad I wasn’t there. I feel almost guilty for breaking so many promises. Simon- Snow. I found that calling him Simon got to him in a way little else had, an awful habit I’ve yet to shake from eighth year. Snow’s death had no audience, and the last face he saw was not mine. (Perhaps debatably, I have heard my aunt and I have the same facial structure.)

It’s pathetic, how much of my life has orbited around Snow. Hating Snow, loving Snow, plotting Snows death, fantasizing about his death. These past weeks since, I’ve realized how little I did that would never circle back to him. I don’t know if I miss him. I don’t know if I yet realize he is dead, he’s never been anything but alive. This is nothing like when my mother died.

I had a plan, around fifth year. I told myself that I would kill him, then find one hundred men who looked exactly like him, and break all of their hearts in all different ways. It was cruel, yes, but so was being forced to live with him for eight years.  
Now, with my father deciding that with Snow gone I am more of a liability than an asset in the war, he and Daphne have been speaking about sending me away, so as to keep me from becoming a bother. Probably to Germany, he says, but really I’ll likely just be kept out of this general area for a few months, and with nothing else to do, that plan doesn’t sound so awful. 

1.  
I met the first on my way out of the city. That made it easy for me, easy to make it fast. He wasn’t perfect, a bit too short, his hair too straight and thin, he held himself too high. Right git, he looked like, but similar enough to make me do a double take. I approach him, not for a second wondering what to do. He stands in a cue waiting for whatever drink he’s ordered.   
Snow would drink straight coffee, with the loads of milk but no sugar. I know because he spent sixth year leaving all of his rubbish on my side of the room, letting me pick up his drink from my desk, thinking it was mine. Sixth year was long.  
I walk up to him, a foot between us and my head three inches above his, he really is shorter than Snow. I place my hand gently between his shoulder and neck, and glare at him through his blue-tinted glasses. Bloody hipster.  
This was harder than I would have thought, looking him in the eye and pretending him to be someone he’s not, someone whos gone. As if Snow could ever just be a “someone”.  
“Your’re worthless,” I spit in his face, whipping around and trying to smoothly swing my bag over my shoulder as I too quickly flee the building. I didn’t care to learn his name. I can’t just replace him. No one could.  
I’m not trying to replace him, of course I’m not. Then what am I doing? Trying to get over him? If sharing a room for eight years couldn’t do that, neither can death. I’m simply doomed, this is a fact I have accepted. I don’t even miss him yet. This has no reason behind it other than to hold true to maybe the only promise I can now. That, and to torture myself. Perhaps the two are mutually exclusive.

On the train out, I realize that if I’m going to do this, I need to do this right. How does one break a heart? Practice, I suppose. I wonder if I ever would have been able to break Simon’s heart. I suppose I’ll never find out, will I? I let myself dwell on this for a moment. Is it possible that I already have?  
Unlikely. I’ve been mean to him, I’ve set him off, I’ve even made him cry, if we go back a few years, but I don’t think I ever broke his heart. Not in the way I’d wish, certainly. He’s very convinced he’s straight, even if he and Wellbelove broke it off.  
As though I’d wish to break his heart at all. 

The thing is, it was my only option. I either break his heart or forfeit it entirely, and Crowley, what else was I supposed to do? I’m nineteen, perfectly capable of controlling myself now, but at fourteen? Fifteen? How could I possibly ignore him when he was right there, following me around like a lost puppy, always one corner behind me. His attention was addictive, and I was weak. Now that he’s gone, I seek the thing closest I can get.

**Author's Note:**

> howdy yall! this is my first time writing in awhile, and I'm really really hoping to stay motivated with it! if yall have any comments or suggestions either on the story or my writing, please let me know! thanks for checking this out, i'll try to update regularly!


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